


Bienvenido a Casa

by TA_Hybrid



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Coco Locos Fluff Off 2018, Family Bonding, Fluff, Gen, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-09-02 13:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16787941
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TA_Hybrid/pseuds/TA_Hybrid
Summary: He goes from the lowest to the highest. From being forgotten, to a practical celebrity. Even if adjusting might take a while. He’s finally home.





	Bienvenido a Casa

**Author's Note:**

> **Prompt:** “Wow - you look… amazing.”

The pain fades slowly.

Leaving him feeling heavy, weighed down, and shallowly breathing. Ribcage rising and falling, eyes still closed and fingers still twitching in aborted movements. There are still the echoes and he feels himself shudder, that lingering feeling of the glow, and the tremble in his bones but. It’s drawing back, slipping away from him like water dripping down to the floor. It leaves him aching, but that sharp lancing pain is bleeding away.

Fading back into the background noise of his life.

There are voices distant, the stir of a crowd, people calling and he weakly flutters his eyes, cracking them open, only vaguely able to see someone outlined against the lightening sky. If this is the dream that his mind is creating as he finally fades away he’s glad that it’s a pleasant one. Weakly, a wobbly smile crosses his face, and he can feel an arm twitch.

He wants to curl and cup, hold himself closer to the one who’s holding him.

But his limbs stubbornly refuse to listen to him, remaining still, locked in position. Aside small jerky movements that barely count. More like small jolts. So he instead lets himself gaze at the one holding him, eyes filled with such awe, and appreciation and.

He feels himself pulled up, pulled into an embrace that’s more than welcome. But even as he tries, the creeping tiredness from the rush of everything.

The sag of his eyes, the comfort of the feeling of being _surrounded_ by people who care. He takes a breath, lets his head drop forwards just slightly, lets out a small humming sound, his eyes slip shut.

* * *

Soft

His first understanding is that he’s on something soft. The second is that there’s something light over his worn bones, a comfortable weight that gently covers him. There’s something beneath his head, offering support. It’s not cold, it’s not hot, but rather comfortably warm. A warmth that makes him sigh, shifting under the material, turning his skull just slightly to the side and snuggling himself down.

There’s a distant laugh, light and he wonders which of his various Shantytown familia members made it. Cracking an eye open just slightly, only to gasp, shooting up and looking around the unfamiliar room, head snapping around. Another light laugh and he cranes his head around, leaning over and-

He’s on the floor before he can realize how far he’s leaning, letting out a small sound. There’s a gasp, and footsteps approach as he rights himself rubbing his cranium and taking a breath, what an impression.

“Are you alright?”

Sí!” He springs to his feet, grinning. Only to wince when he realizes how bad a decision that was when there’s a jolt of pain up his legs, and he buckles. Taken off guard by this weakness. But before he can crash down due to his own inability to stand someone’s caught him. Arms that hold him up gently and he blinks, tilting his head back to peer at this stranger who’s helping him.

A soft smile, plenty of pink, kind of flowery markings.

He knows this person. And there’s a slight grimace that crosses his face at the familiarity, a wince, and the urge to apologize for the last time he saw her. Sure there was a valid reason for his scrambling excuses at that time but...

His eyes widen.

“You’re alright are you?” it’s gentle, light and almost teasing. Although not unkind. He huffs. Rolling his eyes in their sockets and giving her a grin. Settling into an old routine as if she were one of his Tias from the Shantytown.

“Sí! Nothing to worry about at all!” he can see her frown, and ducks his head just slightly, grin stretching wider. She merely shakes her head, and helps him back into the bed.

“Por favor, wait in the bed until you’re better.” she pauses for a moment. Looking him over as he resettles himself, feeling somewhat apprehensive as he curls his hands into the sheets. Mind whirring and trying to remember what brought him here. “Is there anything you need?”

“I no... No Rosita... I don’t need anything.” he mumbles, her mouth goes tight, something in her eyes and he can only force a smile onto his face. She goes to leave and something bolts through him, he finds one hand almost reaching, but the movement’s aborted.

He lets his hand drop and watches as she leaves the room.

There’s a moment of silence before he lies back down. An arm covers his eyes and he lets out a small groan. Disappointed in himself. He lets out a sigh, removing his arm before shaking his head.

He’s not sure when he drifts off.

* * *

There’s a droning voice speaking to him the next time he stirs. Flat and distant, level. The words are fuzzy, barely able to be deciphered by him but they seem to be the words of a story. Some tale that he can’t quite follow, it seems like it might be nice maybe. Or at least the voice telling it to him is nice.

And his eyelids flutter, the slightest shift of his skull on the pillow a breath. His eyes open, the world a blur of colour, indistinct lines until he blinks a couple of times. Looking around there’s confusion, a dull ache in the back of his cranium as he tries to muddle through events. The room is still barely familiar, and there’s another stranger there.

And this person is a stranger. But not entirely, she’s a stranger who should have been family, there’s an ache in his ribcage at that thought. An ache and he pushes it away, mind whirring to try and match a name to the form of the woman who sits in the nearby chair reading. Reading aloud to him.

Or maybe it’s just to herself.

Eventually his mind clicks.

“Vi-Victoria?” it’s barely a breath, there’s a falter in the words and he feels himself wince. Pulling in.

“Sí! How are you feeling?” she moves, sliding off the chair, shutting the book with a fluid movement and he hopes that he hasn’t made her lose her place too much. She looks at him over those glasses and there’s an odd moment, as she waits for his answer. He feels an odd twitch of his mouth, and takes stock of himself.

“I... I’m alright.” there’s still that familiar dull ache. The usual throbbing background pain of his life, a static in his bones. But something has shifted and it kind of tingles in his marrow. Something has changed. “What... what day is it?” how long has it been since Dia de Muertos? How long has he been here?

How long until-

“It has been about a week.” Victoria answers him, her arms crossing over her ribcage and he inhales, calculating the time missed, and how long it would have taken for those in Shantytown to, no they wouldn’t have worried, they would have expected him to-

His thoughts slam into a wall, and his gaze snaps down. To his hands where they rest grasping at the blanket that’s over him. A tremble goes through his bones, and he releases, raising one hand up, curling and uncurling it, staring in wonder.

He’s still here.

He’s--

“He did it...”

“Si, Miguel did it.” Victoria’s voice jolts him around and he cranes his head to stare at her. She still has her arms crossed over her ribcage, eyes shaded with some edge of a guard up and he sucks in a breath. Ribcage heaving. There’s a bubbling feeling in his chest, a new energy in his bones. A feeling that makes him want to leap up and out of the bed, to scream it to the sky, he’s still here.

_The chamaco did it._

But... Where does that even leave them now? His mind is scrambling, sorting through the rush of thoughts as he slowly realizes that this is the second time he’s awoken in this room, and that it’s to-

“Are you alright Héctor?” he flinches, breaths heaving in his ribcage, a burning at his sockets as he tries to decide how much this has to be a dream. How much it is not real. A final conjuring of his desperate fading mind. But there is something wrong with that. Something off with that image.

A detail, something that he can’t quite settle his phalanges on. There’s something in the details of the world around him, and even in himself. Something that’s just... more than a dream. It’s the same room, small details, like the feeling of the blankets and how they lie on him. It’s all the same, he’s not quite used to that kind of consistency, and the question—

“Sí, of course I’m alright!” he says, the edges of his smile feeling cracked and broken as he turns it on her. Those eyes narrow slightly at him, before she shakes her head. His smile drops slightly, and he pulls back, looking away awkwardly, to avoid her eyes. “I-I’m fine, honestly!”

“If you insist!” she says, and he feels his smile falter for a moment, surprised that she accepted it. Or maybe she hasn’t accepted it at all as she peers at him with a slight purse to her lips before returning to her chair. She opens the book once more, and there’s a moment of silence as she leafs through the pages. Finding her spot once more.

A moment where he just lets himself take in her form.

Take in her appearance in the chair. Eyes scanning over her wonderingly. As she begins to speak, to read he shuffles himself down in the blankets a little bit more. He lets her even voice roll over him, choosing not to disturb her, he’s not sure why she’s reading, or even what really but it’s nice to just listen.

Nice to just let himself lie there comfortable in the bed. Nice to just relax and listen as someone reads. The words lose their meaning as he relaxes more into the comforter, energy slipping away. He blinks wearily, trying to keep listening.

Trying to listen to more of the story, stay awake.

Eventually his eyes just slip shut.

* * *

He comes to once more to the sound of mutual growling and someone, someone familiar hollering in absolute fury. Shouts that ring in his stapes and instinctively, before he’s even fully aware he’s attempting to flee, attempting to run only to find himself tangled up in blankets and sprawled on the floor before he can even fully register what’s going on.

There’s a roar, followed by a howl and another distantly familiar, albeit much more mocking voice follows. He untangles himself, twisting around and pushing the blankets away before moving over to the nearby window. His hands press against the glass and he can only stare. Eyes wide as down in the yard there are two giant alebrijes looming over their respective partners and snarling at one another.

Pepita and-

His breath catches, a hitch in his chest. One hand curls against the glass at the sight of the giant golden maned wolf alebrije, he knows that alebrije. And that means-

He pulls himself away, not even letting himself look towards the figure. He pulls the blankets back up, curls himself into a ball and ignores the flickering images in his cranium. A mocking taunting voice and- He shudders, closing his eyes and lets the background shouting fade away.

Let’s himself curl up in the blanket and just breathe.

He focuses on that, and ignores the sounds in the background until there’s a whoosh. His eyes open, and just barely through that window he can see the glimmer of gold as that alebrije disappears. He’s not sure whether he should be relieved or not, because he’s more than familiar with that pest.

And not just from their pestering in the Arts District, not just from-

He closes his eyes again, and turns towards the doorway. Able to hear voices and steps beyond it. There’s still a dull ache, now with an echoing tingling in his bones. Something that itches in his marrow and with the disappearance of that girl and her alebrije. He squirms. Curling under the blanket and watching the doorway, watching the room.

“Hola Héctor!” twin voices call out, almost too cheerful and he winces, pulling himself back under the blanket as the door is practically flung open. “You awake?” one of them -Oscar- calls with a grin, while Felipe merely watches on.

“I, ahh, sí?” he blinks at them both, not sure how else to respond. Both of the twins step up, stopping right by the bed. He looks between them both, a prickle sneaking across his shoulder blades and down his spine. They’re wearing mirror expressions that just promise some kind of mischief.

He pulls the blanket up higher, just slightly shielding himself and shrinking back. They loom over the bed, grinning at him, and it echoes of the early, early days of his marriage to Imelda. He looks between one twin and then the other, nervously waring at the blanket in his hands. He swallows more or less on automatic, and waves a finger just slightly nervously.

Pointing between the two of them, “Wh-what is it?”

“You’re looking a mite bit dusty Héctor!” his twin cuñados say in tandem and there’s a chill that races down his spine, a promise in those smiles.

“I, dusty?” he pulls himself back, eying them nervously. The whole thing really does feel familiar, but now not just to those early days. Especially as they both scan him, a scan that reminds him of some of the older Tíos and Tías down in Shantytown. A couple of his Primos and Primas, his honorary family. “Ay! No...” he shakes his head, dropping the blanket and looking at them both. “No, no, no! I’m good!”

Their smiles definitely promise mischief as they stand either side of him around the bed. Leaving him with-

He bolts himself forwards as they reach for him. Ignoring the tired weight to his limbs and crashing to the floor with little care. Behind him he hears the twins crash into each other and he moves. He’s not going to-

He’s caught, not quite able to scramble fast enough and both of them grin at him. He lets out a small whine between them, and shakes his head. “I’m good!” he repeats, a useless sound really as they grin down at him.

“Really?”

“Sorry, but we don’t think so!”

“Really, I am!” he forces a grin onto his face, a little bit strained. Both of the twins tilt their heads slightly, eyes shining with that little glimmer of their teasing. “And hey, hey! I can walk on my own!” his feet feel unsteady as they move. It’s awkward really, as they walk him down, keeping him between them.

It does help, kind of, his steps getting surer and surer as they go, but it’s still annoying.

Annoying because he could walk himself. As it is, the walk is still too short and they reach a bathroom. It prickles as the twins both stop and he finds himself looking between them, eyes shifting from one to the other. They’re looking at one another, expressions shifting, communicating without-

He yelps, finding himself picked up and unceremoniously dumped in the tub. It is just like the community Bath Day down in Shantytown, but at least.

“Hey!” he coughs, shaking his head rapidly, viciously grinning when they both pull back grimacing at the water and suds getting on them. “Did you have to drop me in fully clothed?” he brushes his hair back from his brow, and grimaces at the pull of his now soaked clothing on his bones. Had he a tongue he would have stuck it out at them as they both step back at him grinning.

“Well, all of you is dusty!”

“Clothing included, so we decided might as well get all of you clean at once!”

“How generous!” he rolls his eyes in their sockets, before letting himself just sink down into the warmth of the water and not worry _too much_ , it’s not like this whole ensemble hasn’t been completely soaked before. For various reasons. But still, he’s not looking forwards to waiting for it to- “Hey!” He flails, waving his hands as they seem to decide that it is only right for them to really help him to get clean.

He retaliates. Because how could he not?

Oscar doesn’t even get the chance to even yelp before he’s pulled into the bath as well. He laughs, watching the poor man blink confused, before he’s caught. Felipe retaliating for his brother. It quickly dissolves into less of a bath and more the three of them just making a huge mess of the room, getting water absolutely everywhere.

And bubbles.

It’s more than worth it!

* * *

He stretches himself up, feeling the oddity of the clothing on him. It’s not quite right, neither of the twins are his height, both just that little bit shorter than him. And yet they were also broader, the shirt hangs a little bit oddly, almost feeling like it wants to fall off on one shoulder. But he accepts it.

Stretching himself out and appreciating the gesture for what it was.

More importantly though, he stops, takes a breath and gives himself a quick once over in the mirror. His hair’s still a little damp, framing his skull, and looking ready to curl as soon as it dries, just a slight curl, but still. And he will admit, he does look better, bones still dull, brittle and with that yellow tint, but-

He looks better.

Almost like he’s put together really. Or at least as if the tape wrapped on his bones isn’t barely holding him together. As if that was just incidental, he’s not falling apart now. Except that he still is really, but he looks better.

He takes a breath, and shakes his head. Brushing his hands over his hair and pulling it back slightly. An attempt to make it look at least slightly more done, slightly neater. It barely changes how it appears, actually looks worse. So he scratches it back into the usual style and leaves it. Now he turns to the door, almost nervous about walking down and to where the rest of the family are.

It’s just a meal, it’s just Dinner. It’s just-

He steels himself, and steps out into the hall. Walking down into the Dining area with a slightly queasy feeling curling beneath his ribcage. He stops for a moment just staring at the members of the family who’re there, it almost feels like he’s an intruder. Standing just barely in the door there, watching them. Rosita’s with who he thinks is her brother, Victoria’s scowling at the twins, echoing Imelda while they shrug, jokingly playing it off. He takes a breath, tentatively stepping into the room.

“W-where do you want me to sit?” his hands curl themselves together, and Rosita is the one who stands up, beaming and smiling as she leads him to a seat beside her brother -Julio. He settles himself down and takes another breath, smiling as he turns just slightly to the much shorter man and gives a small greeting, “h-hola”

“Hola!” Julio’s response is really more of an echo than a response, the shorter man clearly nervous. It’s fair enough, since they really don’t know each other at all. But it feels incredibly odd and he shifts in his place awkwardly. He’s really not sure how to talk to any of the practical strangers in this room.

Even the twins.

It’s been so long.

Ninety-six years. Ninety-six years, so he just settles himself down and listens as they chatter to one another. Eventually the chatter somewhat blurs together, into a comfortable background noise, around him, it’s soothing. Just listening, and appreciating-

“-And what about you Héctor?” Like a deer caught in the headlights he stiffens, mind going completely blank as it scrambles to find the last part of the conversation so that he could actually answer the question he was just asked.

“You weren’t really listening were you Héctor?”

“Yes I was!” he looks at Oscar with a deflecting grin.

“Just not to the words!” He rolls his eyes dramatically at Felipe’s words even as everyone laughs. Rosita lets out a small giggle and Victoria seems to roll her eyes. “But, we did ask, what are you looking forwards to next year Héctor?”

“I- Ahh- I...” he falters, looking down at his hands for a moment. “...Honestly, I have no idea!” he hadn’t even been expecting to survive- His head raises, snapping up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Finally Imelda is- “I-Imelda! Wow - you look... amazing.” He’s caught just breathing the words, derailed from his thoughts by her appearance in the doorway.

She’s holding something, a box and he feels his browline furrow, drawing in as she observes them all sitting there.

“Héctor!” he’s raising to his feet before he even thinks, instincts telling him it’s time to- “Sit back down!” he drops back onto the chair, focusing on her and awkwardly shifting himself. It prickles over his bones as she steps forwards into the room, and the rest of the family all turn to him. It’s as if they’re waiting for something, waiting with bated breath.

He’s not sure if that’s a good thing or not as Imelda approaches. Stalking forwards like a cat. Fluid and graceful, movements deliberate. He finds himself hunching up just slightly, keenly aware that the clothing he’s wearing doesn’t fit properly.

Imelda stops in front of him, and he finds himself just staring at her for a moment, waiting for her to explain what she wants. To make any kind of movement and explain-

The box she’s holding is stretched out in front of him.

Offered to him.

“Uh... What’s this?” he stares at it, brow arching as he looks from the box to Imelda, the family around them still waiting.

“It’s for you!” her voice is a snap and he winces before awkwardly accepting the box. It feels oddly heavy, and he’s not sure if that’s just because Imelda gave it to him or- He takes a breath, and rests it in his lap for a moment. “Well?”

“Give me just a-“ he cuts himself up, takes another breath and lifts the lid off. There’s a bit of wrapping paper there, wrapped around two objects, but more pressingly. His hand pushes it to the side a little and he slides out the card that’s there. It’s not the most decorative card but, there’s a small floral border, but more than that-

He lowers it, pulling the paper out, and laughs.

It’s not funny but-

“Shoes! Did you make these?” he looks at her with a wide grin. They’re black and brown, contrasted, and he itches to pull them out and try them on when Imelda gives a small nod of her head. He itches to-

“Are you going to try them on?”

“Or just stare at them?”

“I don’t know... Maybe I’ll just stare at them for a little longer.” He gives a cheeky grin to the twins before letting out a small laugh and removing them from the box. There’s a single moment of hesitation, before he’s slipping them onto his feet. As soon as they’re on he just takes the time to appreciate the feeling of actually having his feet covered.

He just appreciates their fit. Comfortable, and snug, with actual support. There’s no pinching around his toes or his heels. No discomfort.

He closes his eyes, “They’re perfect! Gracias!” he looks at Imelda with a tremble of his lip. One hand moves to wipe over his eyes for a moment, and he wishes he had his hat to pull down. To just hide for a moment behind to shield himself from all the emotions. “A-and... So is the letter, do... do you really mean it?”

“Of course!” it’s not just Imelda who answers him. The whole family, at different volumes and he looks around, overcome with the warmth that’s just radiating from them all. Welcoming, accepting.

“Welcome home, Héctor!” Imelda’s voice is soft, and he can’t stop himself from springing forwards and engulfing her in a hug. Electing a small yelp. There’s a moment, before Rosita’s joining, the twins, Julio, and with only a minor bit of reluctance, Victoria.

He’s home, he’s finally-

There’s a loud roar from outside, and the whole family looks towards the front.

“Now what is it?” the moment broken, they scatter, and Héctor watches as Imelda stalks away. Leaving them once more. Rosita smiles, shaking her head. She leaves the room as well, off to get what he assumes will be dinner. There’s an easy comfort as he settles himself back down, an easy air of family.

Of security and as he hears Imelda begin to screech at a sea of voices, he can only minutely wince.

It’ll be okay. They’ll be okay, and really.

He’s home, finally, after ninety-six years, ninety-five Dia de Muertos’ celebrations, being murdered, after _everything_.

He’s home.

“Estoy en Casa”


End file.
